


Arpeggio

by monimala



Category: General Hospital
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: Set after Kristina and Parker make love in July of 2016. I'm basically operating under the idea that Kristina is bi and demisexual.There’s only one person she calls after she spends the night with Parker. Johnny Zacchara.





	Arpeggio

There’s only one person she calls after she spends the night with Parker. Johnny Zacchara. Common sense dictates that you dish everything about the hottest sex you’ve ever had to a galpal over a ton of drinks and some mozzarella sticks. Krissy’s never been common and she’s never had much sense. So, of course, once she gets the drama with her dad out of the way, she reports her mind-blowing crash-course in lesbian sex to a felon who’s probably standing smack-dab in the center of a hallway at Pentonville and using an ancient rotary phone.

It’s worth it.

It’s worth it to hear the happiness in his voice after she says “hi.” And it’s worth it because no one else she knows would congratulate her on leveling up from loser high-school and college guys to girls. To a woman. A beautiful, brilliant, older woman who gave her the most intense experience of her life and then walked away.

“Shit!” Johnny exclaims, admiringly. “It’s about goddamn time someone ate you out like you deserve.”

She can picture his face. That wide grin. His dark eyes flashing with a combination of amusement and filthy speculation.

She doesn’t even care that he’s going to jerk off to the details. Hell, she _hopes_ he will. She hopes the mental image of her finger-banging her former professor sustains him for weeks. It’s definitely done wonders for her. She finally feels right in her skin. She finally knows the power of her own body...and really understands the beauty of someone else’s.

“It could’ve been you, you know,” she points out, cradling her cell between her shoulder and her ear as she runs her palms down her belly and her thighs. Even now she’s tingling thinking about it. None of the men she’s been with ever lived up to the idea of the ones she never got to have. Johnny. Ethan. “I’m sure you would’ve done an amazing job.”

“You’re damn right I would have.” He huffs out a laugh. “And your dad would’ve killed me after. We wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”

She shouldn’t laugh along with him. But she’s seen too much death. Buried a husband. And she’s really glad Johnny’s still alive to talk to her. “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you,” she admits, closing her eyes. Imagining his big, broad hand where hers is right now. Spanning her hips like an octave on the piano. Playing her like a chord progression. “I can’t believe I thought I was even in your league. I was a dumb little girl who didn’t know anything about sex.”

His chuckles drain away. For a second, there’s only his breathing on the line. Maybe he’s not in the hallway. Maybe he’s alone in a room somewhere, kingpin of Pentonville, holding a receiver between his ear and shoulder as his fingers slide south.

“I could’ve taught you,” he murmurs just when she thinks he’s not going to say anything at all. “Me and Ethan. We could’ve taught you everything. We wanted to, you know. We just never let you see it.”

It doesn’t surprise her that he mentions Ethan. That he acknowledges they would’ve been with her together. They were a package deal. Something she only vaguely understood at 17 but can totally, vividly, conceptualize now. Ethan in her pussy, Johnny in her ass. Their mouths all over her...and all over each other. She’d loved them both. She’d wanted them both. But they’d both pushed her away. And it’s on the tip of her tongue to ask if they had other women together instead, if they tag-teamed girls all over Port Charles without her knowing ― but she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Tell me,” she urges instead. “Tell me what you would do to me if you could.”

Johnny makes a sound that’s between a curse and a groan. “Baby, this is already the filthiest phone call I’ve had in years. There’s only so much pent-up sexual frustration a man can take.”

She imagines him sprawled in a metal chair, hand down his coveralls, cupping his heavy cock. And she touches herself in the corresponding place, over the damp silk of her underwear. “No conjugal visits?”

“The ladies ain’t exactly beating down my door the way they are yours,” he points out.

_One_ lady. And she’s not sure Parker will ever cross her path again. Despite her begging for it to be something more, and asking for a chance to make it real, it felt like a one-time thing. A very _hot_ one-time thing, yes, but not something that will ever be repeated. Not unless she finds another woman who makes her feel the same way. That’s a tall order when she has a tough time finding _anyone_ who makes her feel the same way. Maybe that’s why she’s really on the phone with Johnny. Because their relationship, if that’s what she can even call it, is the longest one she’s ever had.

Maybe the longest he’s had, too. Discounting their mutual — if totally AWOL — best friend.

“Who says it has to be ladies beating down your door?” she counters. “Don’t you still talk to Ethan?”

“He calls once or twice a year. Stopped in the last time he was in town. He seems to be doing okay.” Most men would immediately protest the implication that conjugal visits with guys are an option. But Ethan is not just a random guy to them, and Johnny is not most men. He chuckles instead, the sound raw and lewd. “What are you really asking? If he’s given me handjobs under the visitor’s table? If he used to blow me back when he worked for me? Does thinking about that turn you on?”

_Yes_. “Does thinking about me and Parker turn you on?”

“I’m in prison, Krissy. Thinking about a decent bolognese and a good glass of wine turns me on.”

She can’t help but giggle. God, she’s missed Johnny Zacchara. His humor, his intensity. His weird sense of honor. It still amazes her that he never once took liberties when she cooked up that stupid plan to piss off her father by pretending to date. They’d _held hands_. And now here they are, years later, talking about oral sex and handies and the threesome they never got to participate in.

“You’re awful quiet over there. You touching yourself?” His voice has dropped even lower, barely above a whisper. And she thinks he’s definitely jerking off now, legs spread wide, sliding his throbbing dick into his fist, as he thinks about her. About her and Parker. Her and him. Him and Ethan. Her and him and Ethan...who was always running away from the inevitable. “Tell me you’re touching yourself right now, baby,” he demands, hoarsely.

“ _You’re_ touching me.” Kristina puts her phone on speaker and sets it on her pillow before she slips her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties. Her eyes flutter shut as she conjures her boys in her bed. One swarthy and stocky, the other ghost-pale and lean. One arrogant and confident, the other tentative and terrified she’ll break. Both dark and dangerous and devoted. Ethan would make love while Johnny fucked her...but she’d fall apart for them in exactly the same way. “You’re _always_ touching me,” she confesses. “You never stopped touching me.”

She finally feels right in her skin. She finally feels right for them.

All they have to do is come home to her.

 

\--end--

 


End file.
